The only thing that people hate more than Nickelback these days is the super generic coworker that wants to tell you all about his fantasy woes.
“Oh, man! If I would’ve just started Andy Dalton instead of Big Ben, I’d be undefeated!”
Ugh, what a fucking tool…or is he?
On the pantheon of awful conversation topics, I think fantasy football banter has been wronged. Am I a huge fan of some lug head dropping by my office when I’m in the middle of something to tell me that he just proposed Amari Cooper and Mark Ingram for Brady and Mike Evans? Not particularly. But am I going to lance James from Marketing in the neck with a pitchfork for bitching about drafting Dez Bryant in the first round while we wait for the Keurig to heat up? Of course not. I mean, I enjoy my job, and I’m not trying to catch a murder case up in this bitch, but I also like #sports. There, I said it.
Let’s talk about sports, coworkers and friends.
Be real about this: In a perfect world, interaction with fellow cube jockeys would be limited. As you know, this world is far from perfect. Floyd Mayweather brings in like a billion per year, and probable psychopath Roger Goodell makes double what the great Jordan Spieth made this year. Shit’s not right. We have to effectively operate in our surroundings, and human-to-human interaction is part of the deal. Ask yourself this: Considering the alternatives, isn’t listening to Jessica talk about her waiver wire moves better than hearing about her Tinder date that was “suuuuch a disaster?”
In office Utopia, you would be friends with everyone you work with and care about the things they have going on in their lives. You’d give two shits about Deborah’s grandkids, or a flying fuck about Neil’s wife that’s probably banging the yoga instructor that Neil thought was gay. But this isn’t, and you don’t. Remember that it could always be worse. You and I both know you work with some less than intellectual beings. Are you game for a 10-minute rant via Clayton about how Obama is flexing his federal muscle with the Jade Helm-Texas takeover? Are you? Because I’m not. That’s why the next time Clayton sees me in the break room and gives me an unsolicited rundown about some national tragedy being a hoax, I’m going to defuse the Alex Jones bomb he’s dropping on me by ribbing him about his embarrassingly idiotic roster moves.
Will I die a little inside as I tell him TY Hilton should’ve gotten the start in the flex spot? Obviously. But some good-natured fantasy football banter won’t get you dinged with Human Resources, so that’s a plus. The glaring exception being Blake in Sales bragging about his highly offensive team name as if he didn’t just Google “highly offensive team names.”
Can’t we just enjoy the wonderful era we live in and humor the folks that are just excited they were invited to be in a league? Because, let’s be honest, those are guys that want to chatter the most. It’s all they have. Do they know what the hell they’re talking about or what they’re doing? Probably not. But so what if they want to be accepted by the cool sportsy dudes in the office. You should take it as a compliment. Just put up with them. It’s good vibes.
That’s why in this year of 2015, I think it’s time we stop shaking our damn heads at Mike from Accounts Receivable for letting us know that his team is an “unmitigated disaster of epic proportions.” Go ahead and vent, Mike. I’m here for you. Just don’t tell me about your FanDuel league. That’s where I draw the line. .
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